


As Sustaining As Certainty

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Background Relationships, Gen, Human!Cole, Post-Canon, Post-Trespasser, stop doing what you're doing you daft egg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 07:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11099694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: Cole finds a spirit of his acquaintance to bear a message to a friend gone missing.





	As Sustaining As Certainty

> Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty.
> 
> _-_ _Doubt,_ John Patrick Stanley

Deep in the flickering green of the fade, a spirit tugged at the sleeve of Solas’s mind.

“Solas,” it said. “Fen’harel. Proud trickster. Spirits’-friend.”

“I am he,” Solas said, pinching his nose between his fingers. His headache, ever-present lately, wasn’t the spirit’s fault. Nor would it be well of him to ignore a friendly word. “What do you wish of me, spirit?”

“I carry a message,” it said.

“A message? From who?”

“From a friend,” it said.

“Whose friend?” Solas asked, leaning against a tree that appeared for him beneath his palm. The spirit shrugged its shimmering arms – an unusual gesture, in a spirit.

“A friend of mine, once,” it said. “And a friend of yours. It’s very important.”

“Very well,” Solas said, folding his arms. “I will hear it, if it please you.”

The spirit shivered, and opened its mouth.

“Solas,” it said, and Solas shuddered, grabbing at the dreaming tree. “Solas. I can’t speak to you like I used to anymore. You’ll make me forget things I shouldn’t. That isn’t right of you. But I can almost enter the Fade like a human now. Maryden is asleep next to me – I suppose I’m asleep too.”

“Oh, Compassion,” Solas breathed. “Cole.”

“I want to tell you everything,” Cole said through the spirit’s mouth. “I know you didn’t want me to be more human, but I like it. It makes me happy. I can make other people happy. I think you would like to see it.”

“I never imagined,” Solas murmured. “Oh, Cole – no, I mustn’t. I mustn’t speak to you.”

“I have a message for you, Solas,” the spirit said. “I found someone who knows both of us – I never thought about knowing people, before, when I was only a spirit. But I did know this one. We brushed against each other.”

There was a pause. “I am Doubt,” the spirit said, in its own voice. “Compassion and I came together, at times. We met in the heart of a templar.”

“I see,” Solas said. “Please, continue.”

“It’s not too late, Solas,” the voice said. “What you’re doing is wrong. I didn’t know it all before, but I know it now. I know how to work out what someone _might_ think from what they _do_ think. It’s another thing I learned from Varric. I know I might be wrong – I know I get it wrong sometimes. But I know what you think. I know what you thought. I knew you better than anyone, Solas, because you talked to me.”

Solas closed his eyes, fighting bile at his throat. Never before had he felt nauseous in the Fade.

“They deserve better than this, Solas,” Cole said, from across the Veil and miles of the waking world. “She misses you still, you know – the Inquisitor. She doesn’t want to kill you. It hurts her, Solas. You were her friend. She trusted you. She wants you to come home.” Cole’s words blurred, tripping over each other. “This part is important, Doubt. You have to tell him these things. Listen:

Sera. Maddening, but bright, like a gleaming fly. Sundered, severed, so far from the Veil, so far from herself, but so alive. Not at all the living dead. Robbed, rent, so far from her birthright, like a bird who never knew it was supposed to have wings. You took that from her, long before she was born, but you can’t give it back. She wouldn’t be her anymore. But you could break her. She’s happy. You thought she was more alive than you – I heard it, Solas. I didn’t know what you meant, but now I do. She deserves better, doesn’t she?”

Solas gritted his teeth; the spirit – caught its breath? No, Cole had.

“And then – he was more like you than you knew. You couldn’t tell him, but you wanted to. Carrying a mistake around like a lash, trying to be kind. Fighting, a man and his guilt like a shield held up to the tide. Trying to ease the pain of the ordinary people, the ones who never asked for any of it, the ones who couldn’t do any better. If you do this, he’ll be there standing against you, comforting the little children as they cry out in fear of you, it danced in front of your eyes when you tried to sleep. I wish I could tell you it wasn’t true. It doesn’t have to be. It still might not be.

And Varric – he made you laugh. Enduring, witty, wise. He can’t dream into the Fade itself, but his words touch it – little spirits, born out of the dreams that he makes people dream. Spirits of courage, spirits of duty, growing out of the words he planted, seeds growing out of stone. He’s like Sera, more alive than you dreamed possible. He still managed to teach you something, didn’t he? A dreamless man, but he taught you about courage, waking up every new day.” Cole’s voice softened. “It’s all right. He taught me too. He taught a lot of things. He’s clever.”

“He taught you too well, my friend.”

The spirit continued; not an answer, just a message. “The Iron Bull. Tal-Vashoth. Like another victim of the Evanuris, coming to you in the wilds. Clever and curious and kind and brave. He helped a lot of hurts I couldn't reach – _too ugly, too old, too young, wrong, wrong for what I want, lonely, too alone_. Did you know?”

“I am unsurprised,” Solas whispered, but the spirit with Cole’s voice didn’t wait: “Rough lips against yours in the sands of the desert, laughter when you pulled away, his hands held up to let you go. Cheeks flushing, heart beating, startled, laughing – new surprises, after all this time. He saw you were lonely, sleepless under the cold gray dawn. He wanted to help. You said it wouldn’t, so he stopped. No one in Arlathan could have imagined him.”

“I had no idea you knew about that.”

“And the others,” the spirit said. “Minaeve, coming past you in the library, gentle with the Tranquil like a mother with her children. Dead, cut off, hollow, lesser, but they were precious to her anyway. Bleeding for them in a corner of the tower, hands shaking, stretched beyond herself, fire reaching for her back, running out to save another one who wouldn’t run without her order. Briala, brave, brilliant, ears burning like a brand, but believing, always, in herself. You would have been proud to march on Arlathan beside her. Dorian, Vivienne, they made you angry, but they were clever, they were good, they could have been more. Mother Giselle, speaking out against the tide, pleading for mages, believing in a god with a light hand. Adan, trying to heal madness with herbs, chewing failure like tough meat because no one else was there to try. The Left Hand, with her flowers in her past and her ravens high above you, bloody hands and a cause and faith like a lifeline. The gentle ambassador folding words into a net to save people and smother fire, bringing you bread in the cold of the morning. 

All of them, Solas – this world made them. This world made them real. They were real, and they were wonderful. They _are_ wonderful.”

“It’s _not too late,_ Solas.” The spirit echoed a crack in Cole’s voice. “You have a choice. We’ve learned, more and more. Leliana’s friend, the Warden, warmth and music in the dark, stories, laughter – she told me of a woman, faith and healing hand in hand. Wynne. Her spirit still wanders the Fade and mourns for her, looks for someone like her to share the memories.

Cassandra, of the Chantry, carrying the kiss of faith, she was my friend, she learned. She listened to you, admired you – you could do so much together.

The children of the Avvar, bearing spirits around like friends, keeping each other safe from demons. There are better ways, Solas. The Veil doesn’t need to keep us so far apart. You don’t have to tear it down. You can reach through. Try. You can build.”

The spirit stopped. “That was the end of the message,” it said, and brushed itself against Solas. “Yes. You know why he sent me. I am grateful to him, and to you. I will thrive a long time, on this.”

“I can’t –” Solas choked, dug his fingernails into his palms, and woke with a sob hitching in his throat.

 


End file.
